


Close Calls

by allhailthenerdmage



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Everything Hurts, Fake AH Crew, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhailthenerdmage/pseuds/allhailthenerdmage
Summary: Close calls are a common occurrence when you run with the Fakes. Hell, they've all died at least once. Except Michael, he's managed to stay alive through their antics. The rest of the Fakes had just assumed that Michael was just as immortal as they were.He's wasn't.





	

The familiar sound of someone choking on their own blood filters through their earpieces. Geoff swears and whips his head around, looking for the corpse. 

“It’s just Gav,” Michael calls. “He’ll be back it a few.”

That satisfies the leader and they continue on the path to the main vault, once the private guard have been dispatched its relatively easy to get inside. The remaining Fakes meet in the main corridor of the bank, yelling orders. People are surprisingly pliant when scared shitless.

Michael heads toward the vault door, prepping a few charges to blast the door open. Suddenly, he pauses. His face goes slack as a loud bang echoes in the bank. 

Ryan’s reaction is reflective, spinning to nail the teller it the forehead with a knife. A gun fall from the man’s fingers.

There’s a thump as Michael’s chest meets the floor. Gavin is at his side immediately, turning his boi over.

“Geoff!” Gavin all but screams, eyes wide and filled with terror.

There’s a hole in Michael’s head, clear through the back of his head and his forehead. The splatter of blood streaks across his nose, like morbid freckles. The arsonist’s eyes are wide with with shock, and glassed over completely. 

Gavin runs a hand through his boi’s soft red curls, rubbing at his cheeks to clean them of blood. He all but sobs, head on Michael’s chest. Jack sits beside him, fingers wrapped around Michael’s perpetually charred fingers. He’s quiet as tears stream down his cheeks. Geoff flinches at the roar of anger that Ryan lets out. The former mercenary grasps his knife and takes it to the hostages. No one stops him.

Jeremy is quiet. He sits a foot away from Michael’s head, the steadily growing pool of blood reaches his shoes and he draws away in disgust. It's a shock, seeing the fiery red head so silent and  _ still.  _ He  _ hates  _ it.

Once Ryan is finished tearing through the people he falls to his knees, suddenly weak. He puts a gentle, shaky, hand on Michael’s cheek. The skin is too cold and Ryan wrenches his hand away.

Jack is the first to speak.

“We should take him home,” He whispers.

“We’ll give him a huge funeral,” Gavin sniffles beside him.

“Fire and smoke,” Geoff’s voice is shaky, “Just like he wanted.” They’ve all talked about funeral arrangements, a silly topic at two in the morning when they were mostly drunk. No one had ever thought about actually  _ using _ them.

Jeremy cracks a sad grin, “We’ll get a bear.” Ryan actually chuckles at that. “He’ll be named Mogar.”

Jack smiles and gets to his feet. He collects Michael’s limp body and strides out of the bank. The Fakes follow silently, heads hung low.

A year later there’s a new statue it the city park. It's a huge bear made of bronze and gold courtesy of Gavin. The plaque reads; _ Michael “Mogar” Jones, the warrior prince.  _

The bear is henceforth known as Mogar. 


End file.
